Not That Crazy
by Twizardck
Summary: "They know nothing. Mind snaps. All I hear is my own cries and the dying breath. She died. She died. She died that day. And I watched." Luna Lovegood is living life in constant terror from her memories. Luna's perspective - 1st person present tense.
1. Prologue

Boom. Smash. Crash. Scream. Run, run, run. "Mom, Mom!"

Stop, shocked. Watch the fire. Hear her scream. I scream too. "Mom, Mom!"

Head turns. Skin is burned off. It's gruesome. So, so gruesome. Breath catches. Eyes bulge. Throat whimpers. "Mom?"

Creature breathes, shaky breath. Footsteps behind me. Turn, anything to not see. Hands grab me. I'm lifted. He's crying. I'm crying. Creature's dying.

Look back, watch. Watch it die. Cry. Beg to be put down. Scream. "MOM!"

Voices. She's dead. Brief explanations. Spell gone wrong. Accident. So sorry for you loss.

They know nothing. Mind snaps. All I hear is my own cries and the dying breath. She died. She died. She died that day. And I watched.

Cold sweat greets my waking moment. Bringing myself up into a sitting position, I look around the room, noticing that I had kicked off the covers as I slept. The blue quilt with the bronze embroidery lays haphazardly on the floor, just waiting for my roommates to slip on it. I entertain a quick fantasy of Alodie or Jesimae falling on their heads and crying out for help, and who would be there? Me. And then they would stop with that atrocious nickname. Or I could just watch and wait.

Eyes stare down at alabaster skin. I slowly try to calm myself, reminding myself that she had died so long ago, that her skinless face was not staring at me now.

Every night this nightmare comes.

It torments my sleep and keeps me constantly reminded of the most terrible thing ever to happen to me. It keeps me in a state of constant hiding, knowing that at any time my mind will turn the false smile on a classmate's face into the charred one of my mother, or turn the screaming of the Quidditch fans in the stadium into her scream of pain as the fire licks away her life.

And so I spend every day in a glazed stupor, commenting on things from my father's magazine, The Quibbler, and all together not showing my true self, instead showing the basic outline, the one that brings the least amount of pain into my life.

They call me crazy. They are blind.

I stare at my hands, and my state of alertness awakes a girl from across the room. She groans as she sits up. My eyes already adjusted to the dark, I can easily pick out her light skin and pale brown hair. She blinks at me sleepily. I manage a slight smile in return.

"Every night, Luna," she murmurs, her voice a high reaching soprano that makes my heart tremble, as it is just what my mom's was. "Every night you have this nightmare and you wake up, and then I wake up. Every night for four years."

_Wrong!_ I scream inwardly. _Every night since she died. Every single damn night!_ But outside my mind I put on a senile face and smile and nod. "Sorry Cassie. Get back to sleep."

She turns over and relaxes her mind again. I stay awake.

I am Luna Lovegood and I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am in Ravenclaw house, in the middle of my fourth year. I excel in charms. I am a fantastic student, and if people took the time to get to know me, I know that I would be a good friend.

Most people that interact with me call me Loony Lovegood. They say that I'm crazy. They don't know that I am emotionally traumatized, putting up barriers of relaxation and calm in order to keep from screaming and crying and all together breaking down day in and day out. They haven't seen crazy.

My mind works differently than others, at least from what I've heard. I think in flashes and words, as in my dream. The same dream I have had every single night since the experimental spell my mother was working on went wrong and burned her alive. I can barely remember my life before that. Back when I thought in sentences and vivid imagery. Now it is all brief flashes and fragments and terrifying memories.

The dream is my life.

No one can understand me, not unless they have seen things and been through things just as horrible. There is only one person I can think of that might share the same burden that I carry. Only one person who I think I might be able to confide in, if he ever stops looking at me like I am completely unstable and unreachable, like everyone else does. I only met him officially at the beginning of this year, but of course I knew of him before.

Harry Potter.

Still staring at my hands, I think about what I have heard recently. Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is useless and evil. Professor Umbridge. We will never learn anything of use from her, and if what I have heard from Harry and Ron and Hermione and Ginny… if all that they say is true, and I have no doubt that it is, then Voldemort is out there. We need to be prepared.

I need someone to talk to. I need someone who will understand me if I show my true self. And I know that person can only be Harry. And first things first. I heard that he was going to be putting together a group in order to keep us prepared if He Who Must Not Be Named comes.

I need to join this group. I need to prove that I can be trusted.

I'm going to burst.


	2. Chapter 1

Crash! The books I was carrying hit the ground with a sickeningly loud noise, making me want to slap hands over my ears and cry. The boy laughs. It is high and cackling and sounds foul and evil. I keep my hands rigid at my sides, fighting the urge to snap out my wand and show him that I am not as weak as he thinks. But I ignore it, instead bending down to pick up the books and hoping that he'll get bored and move on.

He doesn't. "So, Loony. I hear you have nightmares. That you cry at night. Every night." There is laughter in his voice. His voice sounds like his laugh. I continue to pick up the books, staring at them as I work, begging myself to not let him get to me.

A girl's voice breaks my concentration. It is high and frilly, and terribly familiar. It tells me just how the boy knew about my nightmares.

"Oh Donny, sweetie, don't waste your time on crazies like her. We've got such important things to do."

Shaking, I feel my head slowly rising. I look her in the face. I look her right in her model pretty, absolutely evil face. Picking up the last book, I stand up, bringing myself up to my full height so I can meet her eyes. She looks at me without flinching, a deep, toothy frown put on upside down. Her blue eyes say "what are you going to do about it?"

"Watch out for Nazguls, Jesimae." I murmur, eyes glazing over as the scent of smoke hits my noise. As I walk away, I hear her giggling with her brawny Slytherin boyfriend.

I go back into my ignoring state, focusing only on balancing the books with one had so I can cover my nose with the other. Somewhere in the castle someone has set something on fire, and if I smell it…

Too late.

I run into the nearest lavatory I can find, locking myself in a stall and slamming the books on the top of the toilet. The smell of smoke is stronger now, encircling me, finding every possible way to get in. Hands hug legs as I sink down, finally hitting the floor. Sobs rack my body. Oh Merlin.

Though I try to hide my eyes in my robe, somehow I cannot keep them there. My head raises and looks up at the images. The flashes. The fire, the burns. The Ministry men, apologizing for their late arrival. Not that an apology does anyone any good.

I shake.

_Boom. Smash. Crash. Scream._

_ Boom. Smash. Crash. Scream._

_ Boom. Smash. Crash. Scream._

It's so much worse. I can remember so much more awake.

Vaguely I can hear myself screaming for real, where I really am, in the lavatory. The real me. Fourteen years old. Five feet six inches tall. Shoulder length white-blonde hair. Ravenclaw student. Screaming, crying, huddling on the floor of my school's bathroom.

But in my mind, so much more real right now, I'm in Mother's laboratory. Four years old. Three feet tall. White-blonde hair pulled in pigtails. Just starting to experiment with magic. Screaming, crying, shivering in my father's arms.

As the memory slowly fades, taking the terrifying visions of my dreams with it, my own current situation hits me.

_"She'll only believe in something if there is absolutely no proof supporting it!"_

_ "This is Loon- uh, Luna Lovegood."_

_ "There is no such thing!"_

_ "I didn't realize that Hogwarts took mental patients."_

_ "Don't waste your time on crazies like her."_

Every time somebody says something denouncing me as insane, I feel something wilt. I put on a smile and rattle on and on about Nazguls and Crumple Horned Snortacks, but they don't matter, and I don't really think they are real. They hide this side of me from people.

The side of me that is on the floor, crying, right now.

"Here again?" asks a gurgling voice, and I instantly wipe away my tears, bulge out my eyes slightly, and smile. Then I realize who is talking.

I pick my books up off the toilet cover and lift it up, allowing a silvery shape to emerge, stretching. I knew well enough that she could have just gone through the cover, but she always told me that it was most uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Sorry to bother you Myrtle." I stare at the ghost, redrawing her image in my head. Her short braids and her freckles. The glasses that had driven her to this very lavatory, this very toilet, and eventually led to her death at the eyes of the Basilisk.

She cackles. "No, no bother. You cry like me."

I consider whether to take that as a compliment or not. I wonder if that means I'm going to be killed.

"They call me crazy," I murmur. "What would they say if they saw me now?"

"Oh, probably rush to the hospital wing, determine you totally loopy, and have you kicked out so that your problems don't rub off on them," Myrtle prattles, sounding happy enough with the scenario. "So, have you talked to Harry yet?"

Resting my head against the wall of the booth, I nod. "I told him that I believe him."

"What about this club? Didn't you say you were going to join his club?"

"The first meeting is tomorrow. At the Hog's Head."

Myrtle's eyes grow big. "So you are actually going through with it?" You've changed, huh Loony?"

I open my mouth to ask that she please call me Luna, then snap it shut again. At least Myrtle meant no harm by it. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have."

O.o.O

**Author's Note:**

Wow. I wasn't expecting this story to be so well loved. It is written strangely. And to be able to respond to reviews in the second chapter… I love it!

**XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT**** – **Thank you! About the character names, I know that Alodie and Jesimae sound completely Mary Sue, but you are supposed to hate them. Maybe this chapter will show you why. **potatocrazy4**** – **And another huge thank you! Of course you can use the backstory in your fanfic. If anyone else would like to, just make sure to ask me first.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Well here is the first chapter that I am basing from a scene in the book. And if you are thinking "It has got to be the Hog's Head!" then you would be right! Enjoy.**

O.o.O

There must truly be no place in the world worse than a pub. No place. Just standing outside and looking at the window makes my heart beat faster in my fear. The glass is fogged up. With smoke. There is fire in there.

I lean up against the wall of the building – the Hog's Head, my mind supplies – and wait for more people to show. I know that if I walk in with a group, the smell of the bodies will mask the smoke. It would not be good to break down here. Not when I'm getting closer to being understood.

Soon enough a flood of other students do come. I recognize them all, my brain casually giving out each and every name, but I speak to none of them. There are some other Ravenclaws – Padma, Cho, Marietta, more too – but I do not know any of them well.

I get as in the middle of the group as I can, trying to ignore the fact that those around me move away, and we all walk into the pub.

Feeling how we were edging towards a table, I try and make myself seen, hoping that Harry would notice me I as stare at him in a way that seems like I am staring into space. My eyes search his gaze for any trace of calm, but he looks at me as he has always done. As if I am some fragile mental girl. He is at least ten times nicer with his demeaning looks than everyone else is. That's something.

I sit, then almost jump out of my seat as a mug of butterbeer hits my arm. I take it and rise it up to my lips, not because I am drinking, but because it gives my hand the perfect excuse to cover my nose. With us all spread out about this table, the smoke is quite clear now. It is all I can do to focus on not crying.

_Burning mother…_

I can't see the room and my fellow students anymore, instead lost in my nightmare. I can hear the gist of the words being said. Hermione's speech. A boy's – Zacharias, my mind decides – cynical response. Harry's heated reply. A question about the spells he can do – voiced by Susan Bones – and many comments and inqueries on his feats through the years, demanding answers on their truth.

_Screaming, screaming._

But I don't care about what the other people are saying. My mind, so preoccupied with trying to keep me from falling from the chair, sinking to the floor, screaming out, only cares about the words voiced by the boy who lived.

_Heat washing my face._

One thing sticks out, more clear than anything else, breaking through the haze of terror threatening to make me bolt from this room and to some abandoned building.

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you."

Those few words shock the horror out of my system. And it was then I knew without a doubt that I was right. He will be able to understand me.

I spend the rest of the meeting in an amazed coma, barely hearing myself as I mutter something about heliopaths, a ridiculous concept of fire spirits that I can remember from some summer edition of my father's publication. I recognize myself arguing with Hermione about their existence, can feel the anger pulse through me. I don't believe in them. But I have to make it seem as if I do, have to make others believe in them.

They call me Loony. There are a lot worse things people call my father.

I sign a paper. I get up and leave, walking out into the cold without bothering to pull on another layer, though I had brought another cloak. I sink onto a bench and stare up at a bare tree.

He'll understand.

_"Lu-lu, you have NO idea how lucky you are! You have seen one of the coolest things EVER!" A blonde boy, slightly bigger than my six-year-old self, walks backwards before me, hands stuffed in his pockets. "You've got to tell me ALL about it."_

_ I shuffle along behind him. "What?" I was a traumatized girl of few words._

_ "When I heard we were coming to visit you and Uncle Ding-dong, I just KNEW that I HAD to know. What was it like? I bet it was awesome!"_

_ "What?" I feel my small eyes squeeze shut for the briefest second, holding in a sneeze in my way._

_ He laughs. "Lu-lu, I want to hear about that day! Dying is no fun, but seeing someone burst into flame… now that is AWESOME!"_

_ Sniffle. "Meanie." And then I run away._

I had nightmares before then. But my cousin Dustin… He made them all the worse.

O.o.O

**Author's Note: whispered touches:** oh thank you! It is reviews like that which will keep me writing.


	4. Chapter 3

**Birthday Update Fest – Number 6

* * *

**

"I'm fine, just go back to sleep," I hear my saying. I watch as Cassie turns over, her quiet snoring reaching me again in less time than usual. Tonight I am proud of myself. The covers are still on the bed.

I get up as quietly as I can, grab my wand and creep out the door and down to the common room. I had always thought the Ravenclaw common room amazingly beautiful, a calming sort of gorgeous that relaxes the mind. Plop into the softest chair and wriggle up into the smallest ball possible. Gather the darkness around. Black, shadows, darkness – all good. What's bad is when the sun, that great ball of fire, comes out or someone lights the wood in the fireplace.

My eyes wander around the room, playing over each irregular shadow. I need to make sure that I am alone. Because although none of the blankets were kicked off my bed, tonight was the clearest nightmare I have had in a long time.

I don't usually see her eyes. They are the worst part. Long after she finishes screaming, the eyes still show the pain. It's terrifying.

Running my fingers down the length of the wand, I breathe in deeply. Tomorrow is the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army, the name of the group Harry is teaching. I need to be prepared, need to be able to hide my true crazy more than I usually do.

A ghost wanders through the room, nods at me, moves on. I don't even acknowledge that she was there. Just continue to play with my wand.

Eyes. Stare. At. Me. They are asking for help. I can't help. I'm too young.

I will not cry. Will not cry. Will not cry. I cry too much.

He needs to help. Harry needs to help me. If he doesn't, I don't know what to do. If he doesn't, I just know that I will be no more.

People can wither away from the inside out, without anyone noticing. Or with people noticing, it doesn't make that much of a difference. I've seen it with my father. He's withering.

I don't want to be like that. I want to keep living.

Without any thought my wand flicks and a shining orb appears. It keeps me company through my pathetic musings.

Nights like this it is good to have work to do. But I have none. I'm a good student who gets it all done when it is assigned. Stupid of me. So stupid.

I don't fall asleep again. Can't fall asleep again. Soon enough Cassie will wake and realize that I'm not there and come down here and try to talk me into going back up, but she will fail. I'll just smile at her and ramble, and she'll give up. Always does.

She's a pity friend. She feels sorry for me so she talks to me. Not like Ginny. I get the impression that Ginny actually likes me.

But she can't help me. And Harry thinks I'm crazy. I'll just have to prove myself through this club. Just have to prove that I'm not crazy, that I'm like him. It'll take work though.

The orb pulses, a calming light that isn't like fire. It is relaxing. Not relaxing enough to coax me back into oblivion, but enough to calm my pulse.

I'm not going back up until it's time to get dressed.

* * *

**Authors Note: I'm sorry for the long wait that only gave you this short little piece of crap. But I've been busy. Expect updates to be MUCH more frequent, and MUCH better than this. But I needed to get this bunch of angst out, and you'll see why later. Review please!**


	5. Chapter 4

Don't follow the crowd, I am always told. My dad says they are always wrong. The crowd and their _normal_ ideas and their _normal_ hunches almost never get anything right because the world just isn't _normal_. Dad writes that in every letter he sends, making sure that I know it. That I know that it is okay to be different, because it means that I am probably correct.

But this time I walked a comfortable distance behind Ginny and a group of her friends – Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Dean – to a door in a wall, a door in a wall that I am sure was not there before. But a shrug of my shoulders and I don't care. Stranger things have happened in Hogwarts.

_In my head is a scream…_

I clap my hands over my ears, shuffling into the room in a way that I hope makes me unnoticed. The room is amazing, but I can't focus on it. I can't focus on the questions that everyone else is asking of Harry and Ron and Hermione. The only thing I hear is when it is announced that we are going to practice a spell. The disarming spell.

_Expelliarmus_.

I know that one. Long ago, my parents used to act out little duels where they would show me all of the wonders of magic. And at one point my mom had pointed her wand – it was a very pretty wand, and I clutched onto mine all the more. Ours were made out of the same materials, mine and my mother's, but hers had perished in the flames – at my father and shouted out that word. Expelliarmus. And his wand had flown out of his hand, landing next to me. I had picked it up and prodded it at my mother, shouted the same word, made nothing happen.

Justin Finch-Fletchley came up behind me, taps me on the shoulder, blushes slightly when I turn. "Er, Luna, would you…"

I allow a smile to break across my face as I nod. "Quite. You've always been quite nice to the Narguls." What did I just say? I step towards an end of the room, near where Cho and Marietta – two girls I know in passing as they are in my house, but older – are practicing.

Justin and I begin to spar, me getting in most of the shots but not doing as well as I hope. I can't focus properly. _Screaming, screaming, she's right here, she's in your head, she'll never leave…_ I watch Harry step up to Cho, see the coloring of both of their cheeks. I listen to their conversation about the Ministry and Cho's parents, and flick my wand absently at Justin, muttering the spell under my breath, not caring to see what happens.

The two fall silent, and I decide to pipe up with my father's stand. "Well, my father is _very _supportive of any anti-Ministry action!" My voice is louder than I had expected. Before I can stop myself, I'm rambling. "He's always saying he'd believe anything of Fudge, I mean, the number of goblins Fudge has had assassinated! And of course he uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible poisons, which he feeds secretly to anybody who disagrees with him. And then there's his Umgubular Slashkilter, which he sets on the children of his enemies on new moons."

No one is listening to me anymore. Even Justin, who had come up to _me_, is looking apprehensive. I sigh. Why I say these things when I know they aren't true I don't know. All I know is that I just have to protect father.

But now Harry says it's time to go and I walk quietly out of the room, biting my lip and tucking my wand into my robes. My long hair bounces slightly as I walk, and everyone fans out away from me. No one even waves. I fancy that Harry nods, but that was probably him saying that I didn't kill anyone, so it was good.

How am I supposed to talk to him if I can't even get him to see me as anything other than totally insane? I am not.

_Luna, Luna, Luna, the fire will come for you too…_

I fly towards my dorm on new wings, gasping. I fall into my bed and sob into the sheets, not caring if anyone hears. Not caring about Alodie or Jesimae, not even caring about Cassie. None of them matter…

A quick fantasy plays in my head, one where mother is alive, father is less crazed, and I fit in. One where Cassie will come up to me in public, Hermione Granger won't trip on her tongue and accidently call me Loony, one where my automatic reaction to everything is ramble about fictional creatures. That would be the life.

But it wouldn't be me.

O.o.O

**Author's Note: Book scene recreation! A week late and… short. Sorry. Lots of tests going on for the end of the quarter. Next week is the same. Forgive me and review?**


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